


A Stark Contrast

by MelodicRunes



Series: A Stark Contrast [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Tony protects his spiderchild, Angry Howard, Angry Tony Stark, Angst, College, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graduation, Howard Stark Lives, Howard Stark is a terrible human being, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Irondad, Irondad & Spiderson, Maria Stark Lives, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Teen Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark has a hug, someone gets slapped, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodicRunes/pseuds/MelodicRunes
Summary: AU: Howard and Maria were never killed. In fact, they are still very much alive and very much want to meet their newly adopted grandson, Peter. Tony isn't so sure. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. A Stark Contrast

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [A Stark Contrast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909240) by [Cis_moll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cis_moll/pseuds/Cis_moll)



> So my first story, "Peter Meets Steve" has SURPASSED 5000 HITS! O.o 
> 
> I wanted to celebrate the milestone with something special, so here you are! A longer, very AU, fic featuring everyone's least favorite human disaster: Howard Stark! I think Peter is a tinsy bit ooc, and Tony feels quite ooc, but I liked how this one ended. I'll just chalk it up to being AU (since it stars, you know, *Howard Stark* and all). 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Comments and constructive criticisms are definitely welcome!
> 
> The Russian translation is at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909240/chapters/47158861 OR https://ficbook.net/readfic/8461333/21579533  
> Thanks to Cis_moll for the translation!

Tony hummed nervously as he paced around the living room. Peter followed him with his eyes but kept his seat on the couch. The kid pulled at a loose strand on his sweater. It was itchy and made him uncomfortable.

 

“Boss, the Starks have arrived,” chimed FRIDAY.

 

Both Tony and Peter let out matching sighs of distress. They stood to face the elevator, Tony’s hand gently resting on Peter’s shoulder to root the kid in place. Tony knew it comforted the kid, but if he was honest with himself, he held onto Peter for his own support. The kid had become an anchor for the guilt-ridden Avenger, even more so over the past year.

 

And if Tony was continuing this trend of being honest with himself - _It’s Christmas. Why not?_ \- that was the reason he’d kept Peter from them for a year. Well, not _them_ , per se. But _him._ Howard Stark, his father and, now that the adoption was final, Peter’s grandfather. It had been hard enough keeping them away last Christmas, but Tony made the excuse that Peter needed time to settle in before introducing him to the rest of the family. While it hadn’t sat well with his mom, Maria agreed that the kid had had a pretty tumultuous year. A quiet Christmas was what he needed most and she was willing to wait.

 

School had started up shortly after that, and Tony was thrown ever deeper into the mess with the Accords. The Rogues were finally pardoned and...and...and...One thing led to another and it was finally December again. December 27th to be exact. Maria was requesting to finally meet her grandson, and Maria Stark gets what Maria Stark wants. So Tony had agreed, with Peter’s permission, to have his parents visit the compound for a day while the kid was out for winter break.

 

Which led to the pair staring down the door of the elevator, watching as the floors ticked by. Peter picked at the hem of his sweater again and Tony playfully swatted his hand.

 

“Stop that,” he said gently, and Peter’s hand fell to his side. “They’ll love you, kiddo.”

 

“Then why are _you_ worried,” Peter shot back, slightly annoyed at himself for fidgeting like a child.

 

But Tony didn’t get to answer as the elevator dinged and the door opened. He locked eyes with Howard for a brief moment, a tense, fake smile plastered on his face before his gaze flitted down to his mom. His smile became genuine as she stepped off the elevator, arms outstretched towards her son.

 

“Anthony, bambino mio,” she said warmly as he wrapped her in a hug. “It’s been too long.”

 

“I know; I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered in her ear. She quickly let him go and Tony exchanged the traditional Stark Handshake with Howard.

 

Peter stood back, content to be left out of the spotlight, and fiddled with his sweater again. But he was the whole reason they were at the compound in the first place, and he couldn’t stay hidden behind Tony much longer. Peter stiffened ever so slightly as Tony threw an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Mom, Dad, this is Peter, your grandson.”

 

Peter looked up at them tentatively. Maria gave him a small smile that warmed him on the inside. Then his eyes shifted to Howard, who stood almost ramrod straight with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

 

Peter cleared his throat and stammered, “Uh- Mer-Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Peter,” Maria answered, her smile growing wider, making him bolder.

 

“Can I take your coats,” Peter asked as he held out a hand.

 

“A perfect gentleman! Thank you, dear,” she replied as she handed him her heavy winter coat.

 

Peter naturally turned to Howard, but he froze at the quizzical look on the older man’s face.

 

“Stark men don’t take coats,” he replied before he shrugged out of his and tossed it on the back of the couch like he owned the place. Peter placed Maria’s coat on top and stared blankly at his empty hands. Tony gripped his shoulder again and the teen looked up.

 

“Would anyone care for a drink,” Tony offered. “Dad, a scotch?” Howard nodded. “Mom, we have tea, coffee, cocoa?”

 

“Some cocoa would be lovely, bambino. Thank you.”

 

“Pete, why don’t you show Mo-”

 

“Nonna,” she interrupted.

 

Tony nodded, a surprised smile at his lips. “Why don’t you show Nonna where the mugs are?”

 

“Oh, y-yeah. O-of, course,” Peter replied, light coming to his eyes once again. He trailed off toward the kitchen with Maria in tow.

 

“Jumpy little thing, isn’t he,” Howard remarked with a scowl as he waited for Tony to pour him a glass.

 

“He’s fine, Dad. Just a little nervous. He’s never had grandparents before,” Tony ground out, brows furrowed in annoyance.

 

Howard looked as if he might respond, but Maria and Peter returned with mugs of steaming cocoa in their hands. Peter handed one to Tony who ruffled his hair affectionately.

 

“Thanks, kiddo,” he said quietly. Then, louder for everyone to hear, “Let’s take this party to the living room.”

 

They sat and awkwardly sipped their drinks in silence, Peter wishing he’d never agreed to this dumb idea in the first place.

 

“So, Peter, tell us a little about yourself,” Nonna encouraged.

 

“Oh,” he said as he blushed. “I’m uh, I mean, I-”

 

“Speak up, son. No one likes a mumbler,” commanded Howard. Tony shot daggers at the man from across the room.

 

Peter’s cheeks flushed a deeper red as he tried again. “I’m, uh, a junior this year. A-at Midtown Tech in Queens.”

 

“Not a bad school. Not the best, but not bad,” Howard commented. “And your grades?”

 

“A-all A’s, sir.”

 

Tony hated how Peter instantly fell to calling Howard ‘sir’ as if they were in the military and Howard was his commanding officer.

 

“That’s wonderful, tesoro! Any plans for college,” Nonna asked.    

 

“I-I’ve applied to a few places. MIT, CalTech, NYU, and some others. I need to have backups in case, well, you know.”

 

“MIT, hm? Tony was there when he was your age. You should pull some strings, make a few calls, see if you can’t get the boy in.”

 

“Actually, I’d rather get in on my own,” Peter honestly. “That way I know I really belong, that I earned it.”

 

“Nonsense! You’re a Stark now, boy! You belong with the best of the best!”

 

Tony knew it was Howard’s way of trying to be nice, but Peter didn’t interpret it that way. He watched as the kid hid a hurt frown in his mug of cocoa.

 

The conversation soon changed from Peter’s plans for college to Christmas. Small gifts were exchanged and Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the diamond-encrusted watch they’d gotten him. Tony later told him he didn’t have to wear it if he didn’t want to. Peter, a little more at ease with their company, then led them on a short tour of the living quarters.

 

“The bedrooms are down this way. This one’s mine,” he said as he bumped the door open with his foot and immediately blushed. “Oh, sorry.” He hurried to remove all the dirty clothes lying around as Tony smirked at him from the doorway.

 

“Anyway,” Peter continued as he nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “Let’s move on. The lab and workshop are the coolest. You’ll definitely want to see those! That’s this way!” He practically bounced down the hallway again as he led them to Tony’s workshop. It never occurred to Peter that they had probably already been there before, seen all of the Iron Man suits and where Tony did his best work. But the kid was too excited to show it all off that Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him.

 

“This is the workshop where we work on the Iron Man suits. Everything in here is top secret,” Peter whispered as if someone else might overhear them. Maria nodded with a smile while Howard rolled his eyes.

 

“So the suits are housed below the floor and FRIDAY sends them for repair through this hatch here. Tony’s worktables are over there and these two are mine.” Peter idly picked up one of his webshooters and twirled it in his hands.

 

Howard’s brows furrowed at the fact that Peter had said ‘Tony’ instead of ‘Dad’. “What’s that you’ve got there,” he asked, seeing the webshooter in Peter’s hands.

 

“Oh! It’s uh, something for someone else. A, uh, webshooter for Spider-Man? S-sometimes he leaves his gear for us to repair.”

 

“And you get to work on it all, eh?”

 

“Not the Iron Man suits, but everything else, yes, sir,” Peter replied.

 

Howard plucked the webshooter from Peter’s hands and turned it over. “Hmm. Did you make this?”

 

“Y-yes, sir.”

 

Tony and Peter both wait with bated breath for Howard’s approval.

 

“Figures. The casing is made out of a heavier metal. That’s why it jams. Make it out of something lighter,” he said as he nonchalantly tossed it back to Peter.

 

Peter looked down at his webshooter, shame spreading across his face for not thinking of that sooner. “Oh,” he said in a small voice. “Th-thanks.”

 

“Thanks for the tour, Pete,” Tony said as he gently took the webshooter from the kid’s hands. “Why don’t we move back downstairs? Dinner should be ready soon.”

 

Peter stared angrily at the webshooter on his workbench, shoulders tense, as the two elder Starks left the workshop.

 

“Pete? You coming,” Tony called.

 

“Stupid webshooter,” the kid mumbled as he turned to leave.

 

“Hey,” Tony said firmly as he shot out a hand to stop his son from leaving. Peter gritted his teeth and stared at the door. “It’s not stupid.”

 

Peter let out a huff of annoyance.

 

“Pete, my dad doesn’t know how to give compliments. He’s not a nice person. So I don’t want you to spend the rest of the day trying to make him proud of you. He will never admit that he’s proud of you. That’s just who he is. But _I’m_ proud of you, and that matters, right?”

 

Peter sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” he said quietly.

 

“Good,” Tony said with a sigh.“Let’s just get through dinner and then we’ll be fine. We’ll have a movie marathon tonight; your pick.”

 

Peter tried to wipe the frustration off of his face for Tony’s sake as he followed the man downstairs. He hung back a little, not overly eager to see Howard again. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he slowly descended the stairs to the living room, Tony long gone in search of their guests. Peter rounded the corner toward the kitchen and stopped short. His sensitive ears picked out voices coming from the library. Peter quietly stepped closer to hear better.

 

“...don’t know what you were thinking, Tony. That boy is a mess and unfit to take over my company!”

 

“It’s not your company anymore,” Tony retorted. “Or did you forget that you retired?”

 

“And don’t think I didn’t pick up on the fact that he calls you _Tony_ . Kid can’t even call you _dad_! What are you doing with him, playing house? Is this another publicity stunt? The boy needs structure, not a pat on the back! He needs to man up if he ever hopes to live up to the Stark name!”

 

Peter’s heart pounded in his ears, his face red, and his fists clenched. _Of course, he thinks I’m useless._ There was a roaring in his ears that made him almost miss Tony’s retort.

 

“Peter’s fine just the way he is, and I won’t force him into anything he doesn’t want,” Tony replied, dangerously quiet.

 

“You’re not equipped to handle a boy like this, Tony. You have too much on your plate to be worrying with a teenager from a broken home. Or any teenager, for that matter. How do you plan to take care of him _and_ be Iron Man _and_ run Stark Industries?”

 

Howard’s tirade continued for several minutes. Tony stood quietly by, feeling like a chastised child, as Howard gave voice to his deepest fears. What if he wasn’t equipped to help Peter? What if Howard was right after all, that Tony was in over his head? What if something happened to him while he was out being Iron Man and Peter was left alone yet again? What if...what if, after everything he’d done, every protocol he’d programmed or rule he’d set in place, Peter turned out like Tony?

 

“You should send him away to boarding school so you don’t have to pretend to be the kid’s dad longer than you have to,” Howard huffed.

 

Peter couldn’t help himself as he barged into the room, raw fury pumping through his veins. _Nobody talks to Tony like that!_  

 

“Shut up,” Peter shouted. Both men jumped and turned toward the very angry teen.

 

Peter’s brain seemed to disconnect from his mouth as he yelled at **_the_** Howard Stark. “What would you know about being a dad? You could’ve won the shittiest father of the year award!”

 

“You little-” Howard started, but Tony stepped in between his father and his son.

 

“Peter,” Tony said quietly and the kid instantly locked eyes with his mentor.

 

They’d grown closer over the past year, close enough for Tony to call him anything but _Peter._ Pete was common, as was spider-kid, spiderling, protege, and on occasion mini-me, but _Peter_ was rare these days. _Peter_ was reserved for formal occasions, like a dinner party. _Peter_ meant his ass had better be on his way home from patrol or he was grounded. _Peter_ meant he’d scared Tony yet again with more of his death-defying heroing antics. And in this instance, _Peter_ meant that he had crossed a line, opened a box that Tony never wanted opened, least of all with Howard in the same room.

 

Peter’s anger was quickly replaced with regret and he darted out of the room as fast as he had entered it.

 

Tony and Howard stared silently after him for a long moment.

 

“What in the hell,” Howard exclaimed, “was that?”

 

“Get out,” Tony spat.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Get out! You’ve terrorized my kid enough for one day. It’s time for you to go.”

 

Howard gaped at his son for a long moment as Tony angrily held the door open for the man to leave. Howard huffed in annoyance and brushed past Tony, gruffly calling for Maria to get her coat. Tony didn’t bother to see them out. Instead, he sank down in a nearby chair, ran his hands through his hair, and sighed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Peter ran, putting as many floors between himself and the Starks as possible. He panted as the elevator doors closed around him.

 

“Gym, Friday,” he said hoarsely and the room started to sink.

 

He pulled his stupid sweater off as the doors opened again, tossing the hated shirt into the corner of the gym. His fancy white button up soon followed. He dug through his locker to find some SI sweatpants and changed out of his thick khakis. Once appropriately dressed, he found the closest punching bag and reared his right fist back with all of his might. He imagined Howard’s face every time his fist hit the bag and it made him feel good for a little while. Then he remembered Tony’s face, a mixture of anger, surprise, and disappointment all rolled into one. The punching bag became blurry and he missed his next hit. Instead, the bag swung back at him and hit him square in the chest with enough force to knock him on his butt. He sighed as angry tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

“Hey, Pete. What are you doing down here? Did the Starks leave already?”

 

Peter sat up instantly and tried to brush the tears from his eyes as Steve sat down across from him.

 

“Peter,” the soldier asked when he saw the streaks on the boy’s cheeks.

 

“I...he... _Howard_...and then Tony...ugh! I’m not good at being a Stark!”

 

“Woah, why don’t you slow down and start at the beginning? Here.” Steve offered the kid a water bottle.

 

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled and took a few sips.

 

Steve waited as the kid’s breathing slowed to a more normal rate and his tears subsided.

 

“Better,” the super soldier asked.

 

Peter nodded.

 

“I know Howard isn’t the nicest guy; Tony warned me. And it’s fine, ya know? He doesn’t have to be nice, I guess. But he kept asking all of these questions about college and he didn’t like any of my answers! And then he found mistakes with my webshooters and...I tried! I tried for Tony’s sake! I wanted today to go well! Honest. I know how much it meant to him for me to meet them! But then with my sensitive hearing, ya know, I overheard them talking. Howard a-and Tony. And Howard kept saying how I was unfit to run the company, that I’ll never live up to the Stark name. Which is fine, I’m used to bullies. But then, _then_ he goes off on Tony! And says all kinds of shit about how he’s not fit t-to take care of me, that he’s not _equipped_ to be a Dad _and_ Iron Man!”

 

Tears were streaming down his cheeks again.

 

“H-he said T-Tony should just send me away so he wouldn’t have to pretend to be a Dad anymore!”

 

Steve’s brows furrowed in pity. “Peter, no-”

 

“So I yelled at him. I yelled at Howard Stark.” Peter scrubbed at his face. “I don’t care what he says, Tony’s perfect. He’s been everything I’ve needed and more and I never would’ve made it this long w-without him. He’s a perfect Dad. A little overprotective, but h-he’s...he’s my Dad.”

 

Steve patted the young hero on the shoulder as Peter wiped his eyes on his shirt tail.

 

“I’ve never called him Dad before. Do you think he’d be upset i-if I did? Like, in person,” Peter asked as he looked up at Steve.

 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” Steve said with a small smile. He nodded at something behind Peter and the kid turned to find Tony leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.

 

“Tony,” Peter exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. His excitement was short-lived, however, as he remembered the man’s tone from the last time he’d seen him.

 

“Hey, kiddo. Come on, let’s leave this dinosaur to rest.” Tony pushed himself off of the wall and waited for Peter to fall in step beside him.

 

Peter wiped the last of his tears away as they entered the elevator. The kid looked everywhere except at Tony. “So, uh...i-is he, uh...ya know...mad,” he asked quietly.

 

“Probably.”

 

“You don’t know for sure,” Peter asked in a panicked voice.

 

“Nope. I made him leave.”

 

Peter looked up, mouth slightly open. “Th-they’re...gone?”

 

“Yeah, kiddo. They’re gone. It’s just us.”

 

Peter gave the Avenger a genuine smile, his first genuine smile all day. Tony smirked back at him.

 

“So, uh...h-how much did you hear,” Peter asked, his voice cracking.

 

“How much did _you_ hear,” Tony retorted.

 

“Enough,” Peter blushed and looked down at his feet. They had arrived at their floor but neither had made the move to leave the elevator just yet. “Tony, I’m-”

 

“Let me stop you right there.”

 

Peter looked up, a knot growing in his stomach. He swallowed and fidgeted with the tail of his sweaty shirt.

 

“First off, stop apologizing.”

 

“But-”

 

“Let me finish!”

 

Peter slumped against the elevator wall in silence.

 

“I can’t make you apologize for something I’ve said, or wanted to say, too many times myself.”

 

“I’m not sorry for what I said,” Peter replied, very matter-of-fact. “I mean, maybe a little bit sorry. Nobody should be screamed at, no matter how bad of a person they are.”

 

Tony’s heart warmed at the preciousness that was Peter Parker.

 

“I’m sorry it bothered you. I, uh...didn’t want that. I tried to make today go smoothly. Honest! I-”

 

“Pete, stop.” Tony laid his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “I know you did. Thank you. You did great, kid, really. My father’s not an easy man to please be any means. But he might’ve been a little impressed with your work in the workshop. And while he doesn’t handle being yelled at very well, he was slightly impressed that you dared to go against him in the first place.”

 

“Really,” Peter asked, a small smile in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, kid. But that doesn’t mean you should do it again. Definitely _don’t_ make it your life’s goal to piss off Howard Stark. It’ll bite you in the ass in more ways than one.”

 

“Right. Yeah.” Peter scratched at the back of his neck, cheeks still a little flushed.

 

The doors to the elevator opened and they finally stepped out into their living room.

 

“Secondly,” Tony said as he threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “You can call me whatever you want, even if that means I start answering to ‘Dad’.”

 

Peter’s ears turned as red as a tomato as he buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “You don’t mind?”

 

“No, kid. I don’t mind,” Tony whispered as he pressed his nose in Peter’s curls.

 

“Can we watch Star Wars...Dad,” Peter asked tentatively, trying out the new title.  

 

He turned his head to look up at Tony with his brown doe eyes and some part of Tony, a part he didn’t know he had, melted completely. Tony couldn’t help but smile down at the kid.

 

“FRI, you heard the kid. Cue up Star Wars and order us some pizza. The usual will be fine.”

 

“Anything for you, Boss.”

 

The next generation of Stark men plopped unceremoniously on the couch, cuddled up next to his Dad, as they began their long-anticipated and hard-earned movie marathon.

 

Peter grabbed a fresh slice of pizza, the cheese stringy and refused to tear. He brought it up to his mouth but paused with his lips parted and turned to face Tony.

 

“Do I have to call him Grandpa?”

 

Tony snorted and spewed soda all over the coffee table. _Graceful, Tony. Very graceful._

 

“Uh...we’ll work our way up to that. Just focus on not pissing him off for now.”

 

Peter shrugged and turned back to his pizza.

 

“Stop talking about my Howard. You’re ruining this movie we’ve seen no less than 412 times in the past year,” Tony joked, bringing a smile to Peter’s face for the second time that night.

 

Yeah. He liked being a Dad.


	2. Family Feud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets in trouble at school and Howard decides to pick him up. Tony is less than pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is to celebrate this story reaching 5k hits! I'm flattered!
> 
> I've had this idea rolling around in my brain for a while, but it turned out a little darker than I imagined. I tried to add some extra fluff at the end to make up for the angsty angst. 
> 
> So WARNING! Physical abuse is hinted at, but nothing is explicit or graphic. Someone gets slapped. That's all. If that's not for you, you've been warned. Tags updated to reflect that.

Peter slumped awkwardly down in his chair, a hand wrapped protectively around his ribs. The other gingerly touched the skin around his left eye. He sighed as he heard the phone call from the office next door. His super hearing could even pick up the voice on the receiving end. 

 

_ “Hello, this is Principal Morita from Midtown. I’m looking for-”  _

 

_ “Is Peter ok? What’s wrong?”  _

 

Peter groaned inwardly. Tony sounded worried, maybe even a little panicked. 

 

_ “Peter is fine. There was just a little... _ **_altercation_ ** _...this afternoon involving Peter and another student.”  _

 

_ “What kind of  _ **_altercation_ ** _?”  _

 

_ Mr. Morita breathed deeply. “Peter was involved in a fight with another student. I’m happy to report that outside of a few bumps and bruises, both students are fine. However, physical violence is not something we tolerate here at Midtown. Both students have been suspended for the rest of the day and are not to return until Monday. You will have to come pick him up.”  _

 

Peter forced himself to tune out the rest of the conversation, instead focusing on every distant sound coming from the hallway. He didn’t want to hear the worry in Tony’s voice or the disappointment he was sure would follow it. He tried to distract himself from the lecture he was sure to receive when Tony picked him up. In their year and a half together, he hadn’t done anything quite as stupid as punch Flash Thompson in the nose. 

 

Peter’s phone buzzed and he quickly looked down to avoid the disgusted glares coming from Flash and the receptionist. 

 

It was Tony. And because it was Tony, Peter wasn’t given the chance to ignore the call. It answered immediately. He raised the phone to his ear and swallowed. 

 

“Hullo.” 

 

“Someone had fun at school today.” 

 

Peter blushed. “You know, the usual.” 

 

“Yeah, I bet. How bad are you hurt? Do I need to call Dr. Cho?” 

 

“No, no. I’m fine. Honest.” 

 

“I’m calling bullshit, but since I didn’t get an alert from your watch, I’ll let it slide for now.” 

 

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

“Listen, while I’d love to take you out for ice cream to celebrate your first suspension, I’m stuck in DC and Pepper’s in California till Sunday. I wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, but I can move some meetings around to leave tonight at the earliest.” 

 

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” 

 

“Again, bullshit. Don’t think that we won’t talk about this when I get home, ice cream or not.” 

 

Peter sighed in the receiver. 

 

“There’s the trademark teenage sass I was waiting for. Glad to know you haven’t sold out for Team Cap and his PSA on manners.” 

 

Peter snorted. “I would never.” 

 

“Good! I’ll send someone to pick you up. Stay in the tower until I get back. I mean it; Friday will let me know if you try to leave the penthouse.” 

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. See you tonight.” 

 

“Love you, kiddo.”    
  


“Yeah, love you, too.” 

He hung up the phone and slouched down into his chair again. He closed his eyes to better ignore the grimaces coming from Flash. The lull in activity almost put him to sleep as he waited. But then he heard the distinct  _ tip, tap _ of a  _ very expensive _ pair of dress shoes and he sat up immediately. Pure dread raced through his veins as none other than Howard Stark strolled through the front office. 

 

“I’m here to collect my grandson,” he announced to the flabbergasted receptionist. 

 

Flash gaped from Howard to Peter, not truly believing what his eyes showed him. Howard signed a form on the front desk and turned to give Peter a once over. Peter stood instantly as he made eye contact with the eldest Stark. Howard took two quick strides over to Peter and gripped his chin harder than necessary, turning it to get a better look at Peter’s black eye. 

 

Howard hummed his disapproval. “Get your things. Let’s go,” he ordered briskly. 

 

“Yes, sir,” Peter answered quietly as he grabbed his backpack. He caught Flash’s eye when he turned and noticed that the other boy had paled slightly. Peter hurried out the door without saying a word and followed his grandfather out to the black Rolls Royce in the parking lot. 

 

The driver, James, let them in and got in the front seat. “Where to now, sir,” he asked. 

 

“Home, James.” 

 

Peter looked up, brows knit together in confusion. “But Dad said-” 

 

“Change of plans. You’re coming to the mansion with me and that’s the end of it.” 

 

Peter settled his hands in his lap, mouth snapped shut. He knew his Dad was upset at him, and rightly so, but enough to send in  _ Howard _ ? Tony wouldn’t send Howard if he were the last person on earth...or so Peter thought. 

 

He gently leaned his head against the window and sighed. 

 

“Stop pouting. And sit up straight,” Howard barked. 

 

Peter instantly obeyed, sitting straight as a board. His ribs protested at the sudden movement, but he didn’t let on that he was in pain. That would only make it worse. 

 

“And answer me when I talk to you, boy.” 

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Peter intoned. 

 

_ Always ‘sir’; never anything else. Nothing nice like ‘Grandpa’. Wonder what it’s like to have a Grandpa _ , Peter thought as he watched the city pass outside his window. 

 

Peter took out his phone and tried to type out a text to his Dad. 

 

 _I’m sorry…_ **Delete** _...I know you must be disappointed in me…_ **Delete** _...I’ll make it up to you…_ **Delete** _...Did you really send Howard?_

 

A hand entered his field of vision and snatched the phone away, pressing send on the last message he had typed. 

 

“Hey! I was texting Dad,” Peter cried. He instantly regretted it. 

 

“Don’t raise your voice at me, son! If you want to talk to your father, you can do it in person later. We’re almost there.” 

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Peter intoned again. 

 

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the gravel drive of the Stark Mansion. It was massive with all of its columns, high arches, and cathedral spires. Peter hated it. It reminded him of how very different he was, that he didn’t fit into this world that Tony had dragged him into, however welcoming the man had been.

 

He gently got out of the car and grabbed his bag, hoping to sneak inside and hide somewhere until Tony arrived. He’d take a fight with Tony, complete with yelling, over a lecture from Howard any day that ended in -y.  

 

But Howard beat him to the door. “Upstairs to the study. Now,” came the command and Peter had no choice but to obey. His feet carried him up the stairs quicker than Howard’s so he stood in front of the oak desk and waited. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder as he heard Howard’s solid footfalls on the lushly carpeted stairs. Peter’s heart beat in time with each footstep. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as Howard entered and slammed the door shut. Peter flinched away from his grandfather’s scrutinizing glare. 

 

“Care to explain yourself,” Howard asked in a tone that was entirely too loud for the enclosed space. 

 

Peter kept his mouth shut in an attempt to get his reeling senses under control. 

 

“I  **told** you to  **answer** me when I talk to you, boy,” Howard shouted and took a step toward Peter. “It damn well better be worth it for me to drive all the way to Queens to get your ass!” 

 

Peter took a few steps back in self-preservation. “I-it was nothing, sir,” he mumbled painfully. “A stupid argument.” 

 

“A stupid argument is right,” Howard scoffed. “Just like your father. It’s only a matter of time before you’re kicked out of that school, and then what? Hmm?” 

 

“Leave Dad out of this!” Peter balked, hands in fists as he stared up at Howard.  

 

Peter’s outburst earned him a hard slap across his already bruised face. The blow brought tears to his eyes. 

 

“I don’t care how Tony lets you speak to him, but you won’t talk to me like that! Not under my own roof! Apologize.” 

 

“S-sorry, s-sir,” Peter choked out. 

 

“Damn right you’re sorry.” Howard rounded his desk to stand in front of his plush leather chair. “You’ll sit right there, where I can keep an eye on you, and do your homework. I don’t want to hear a word out of you until it’s finished. Understood?” 

 

“Y-yes, sir,” Peter mumbled as he quickly sat down and got out his calculus notes. 

 

Peter wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he had the courage to glance up again. When he did, he saw that it was getting dark out. He sighed in relief. 

 

_ Dad should be here soon _ , he thought. 

 

His watch buzzed with a notification and he looked down to see a message from Tony. 

 

_ Dad: What part of ‘stay at the tower’ did you not understand?? _

 

Peter crinkled his nose.  _ If he sent Howard, he would know I’m not at the tower. That means...he didn’t send Howard!  _ Peter’s heart soared at the thought and he looked up. 

 

“Uh, sir? May I have my phone back, please,” he asked as politely as he knew how. May had trained him well, but nothing seemed to be good enough for Howard Stark. 

 

“No,” the man answered without looking up from his papers. 

 

“But Dad is trying to text me. He wants to know where I am.” 

 

“He’ll figure it out soon enough. In the meantime, I don’t recall telling you that you could stop working.” 

 

“Actually, I’m finished, sir.” Peter’s stomach rumbled loudly. “And hungry. Will I be staying for dinner?”  

 

Howard threw down his pen and glared up at Peter. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you? You’re spending way too much time with Tony. If I had my way, you’d be off in Europe in a boarding school, not lounging around with the Avengers.” 

 

“Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t get your way, isn’t it,” Peter mumbled before he could stop himself. 

 

“What did you say, boy,” Howard thundered as he surged to his feet. 

 

The sudden jump in decibels made Peter lean back in his chair, white hot pain tugging on his bruised ribs. “N-nothing. Nothing, sir.” 

 

“Be a man, Peter! If you have something to say to me, say it to my face.” He glared across the desk at Peter. 

 

If Peter hadn’t had to deal with Flash all day, he could’ve handled whatever Howard threw his way. He was used to bullies and their diatribe. As it was, his head pounded, his eye throbbed, his stomach was empty, and he’d reached his limit. It was just an overall shitty day and nothing he did was going to make it any better. So, he made it worse. 

 

He glared up at Howard. “I said, it’s a good thing you  _ didn’t _ get your way. Dad wouldn’t send me away; he actually cares.” 

 

Howard reached across the desk and grabbed Peter by his shirt collar. “Tony’s gone soft with you. Someone needs to step in a teach you a lesson, you ungrateful brat! My son put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and gave you one of the most influential last names in the  _ world _ and this is how you repay him?! By getting into  _ ‘stupid arguments’ _ and mouthing off at your betters!” 

 

Peter had never truly hated anyone, but in that moment, he hated Howard. Hated how he had the innate ability to give words to his deepest, darkest fears. Hated himself for all the trouble he’d caused.  _ I’m not good enough. He’s right. I’ll never be good enough for Tony.  _

 

“I...I…,” he stammered. 

 

“What? Cat got your tongue, now, little orphan boy?” 

 

The door slammed open behind Peter and he heard a repulsor prime over his shoulder. 

 

“Unhand my son,” Tony spat through clenched teeth. 

 

Howard glared at Tony over Peter’s head for a long moment, then dropped him ungracefully. Peter stumbled backward into Tony, who wrapped a protective arm around him. Tony flexed his hand and the gauntlet slid away to hide in his watch. 

 

“Peter? You ok,” Tony asked quietly as he ran his hands over his son’s arms. 

 

Peter refused to look up at him. “Y-yeah. ‘M fine,” the kid mumbled. 

 

“Wanna try that again? You’re shaking like a leaf, kiddo. Did he…” Tony stopped himself as he remembered the many times he’d made Howard angry, how he’d been slapped around in that very room.

 

“I’m fine, Dad. Just tired,” he said quietly. 

 

Tony didn’t look convinced, but he wasn’t about to push it in front of Howard. “Ok. Get your stuff and head downstairs. I’ll be done in a minute, and then we can go home.” 

 

Peter gratefully shoved his books back in his backpack and left without another word. He raced down the stairs, threw himself onto Nonna’s favorite chaise lounge, and covered his ears with his hands. The yelling had started.  

 

Peter tried to block it out, to think of something, anything, other than the vengeful look he’d seen in Tony’s eye as he’d run from the study like a coward. 

 

_ I can’t even fight my own battles; Dad has to step in for me. So much for being  _ **_Spider-Man_ ** .

 

Peter shoved his backpack across the couch, lashing out in rage, angry at no one but himself now. The movement took his hands away from his ears and he was bombarded with the trampling intonation of Howard’s voice. 

 

“I told you before, Tony! That boy isn’t fit to be a Stark, to run the company, to be the future of the world! He’s too soft! If you knew what was good for him, if you  _ really cared _ , you’d do everyone a favor and send him to boarding school to toughen him up!” 

 

Peter’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for his Dad’s reply. It was so soft that he almost didn’t catch it. 

 

“Peter isn’t soft. He’s  _ good _ . He’s everything that’s good in this world, and he’ll make the world, and your damn company, better because of it. Now stay the hell away from my kid.” 

 

Peter flinched as the door slammed and someone hurried down the stairs. He quickly scrubbed at his eyes to erase the tears that had fallen, wincing when he touched his bruised cheek. 

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see that.” Tony’s voice was still soft, but it wasn’t angry. He sounded tired, worn out.

 

Peter couldn’t help but think it was all his fault, that none of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t given in and punched Flash in his stupid face. He felt the familiar sensation of calloused fingers running through his hair, shortened nails scratching gently at his scalp. He leaned into the touch subconsciously but forced himself away with a jerk. 

 

_ Howard’s right; I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve Tony. _

 

Peter didn’t see the frown on Tony’s face when the kid pulled away from him. 

 

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s go home. It’s been a long day and I don’t know about you, but I could use some pizza.” 

 

Peter shouldered his bag without a word and led the way to the garage. Since Tony had flown a suit to the mansion, James drove them to the tower one last time. The ride was eerily silent, but Peter didn’t notice. He also didn’t notice the worried glances Tony threw at him every five minutes. The kid was too wrapped up in his guilt to see the outside world. Even the ride up to the penthouse was quiet, much too quiet for Tony’s liking, but he chalked it up to Peter’s eventful day. He hoped getting some food in the kid would make him talk more. 

 

“Good evening, boss, Peter. Welcome back,” sang Friday. 

 

“Pizza, Fri. The usual,” Tony called as he made his way to the kitchen. 

 

“Right away, boss.” 

 

Peter quickly went to his room and shut the door before Tony could stop him. He dropped his bag near his desk and sighed, finally letting his shoulders slump in frustration. He tugged out of his sweater and ripped off his button-up; both ended up on the floor near the corner of his room. He took stock of his injured ribs, running a hand gently down his side, and hissed. 

 

_ Tony’s gonna freak. _

 

The cool night air felt good on his warm, swollen skin so he went without a shirt for a while. He plopped down on the edge of his bed and ran his hands through his hair as Howard’s words rattled around inside his skull. 

 

_ “...he’s too  _ **_soft_ ** _...isn’t fit to be a Stark, to run the company…”  _

 

Peter couldn’t even think of running the company at the moment. He immediately threw that thought right out the window as another replaced it. 

 

_ “...this is how you repay him?... My son put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and gave you one of the most influential last names in the world and this is how you repay him…”  _

 

Tears fell unbidden and dripped into his hands. 

 

_ He’s right. How could I do this to Tony, after everything he’s done for me? I’m not cut out for this, not meant to be a Stark. _

 

A gentle knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Peter jumped to his feet as the door swung open. Tony stood in the doorway, tie gone, vest unbutton, and a box of pizza in his hand. 

 

“Food’s here. Mind if I come in?” The man didn’t wait for an answer as he strolled in any way. He placed the pizza box on the desk as Peter hurried to grab the nearest shirt he could find, a Stark Industries hoodie. 

 

“Woah! What’s this,” Tony demanded. He took the hoodie from Peter’s grasp and moved the kid’s arm out of the way to get a better view of his blackened rib cage.

 

“‘S nothing,” Peter mumbled. 

 

“That’s not  _ nothing _ ! What is this? Did that happen at school?” 

 

Peter stared at his feet afraid to answer. 

 

“Peter,” Tony warned. “That’s it. I’m calling Banner.” 

 

“What? No! It’s fine! I-it’s just, just bruised!” 

 

“Doesn’t look ‘just bruised’ to me. I’ll let a medical professional be the judge of that.” 

 

Peter sighed. “It’s healing, that’s why it looks so bad. It...it was Flash. It happened hours ago. It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he lied. 

 

“Yeah, I’m not buying it. Spill the beans, kiddo, or I’m calling the big guy.” 

 

“I told you; it was Flash.” 

 

“What did he do? Shove you down the stairs?” 

 

“No,” Peter retorted defensively. “It was the lockers.” 

 

“Repeatedly?” 

 

Peter didn’t answer. 

 

“He shoved you into the lockers repeatedly, didn’t he?” Tony ran his hands through his hair. “And then what?” 

 

“And when I tried to fight back, some of his stupid friends held me against the wall as he...as he…” 

 

“As he beat the shit out of you,” Tony supplied. 

 

Peter dropped his hands to his sides in defeat. A chill ran through him and he felt exposed. He snatched the hoodie out of Tony’s grasp and quickly shoved his tired limbs into the sleeves. The pair stood quietly for a long moment, both staring at the floor, not sure what to say next. 

 

“I got your text. A little too late, it seems,” Tony broke the silence. 

 

Peter looked up at him, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. 

 

“Howard. I didn’t send him to pick you up. I never called him.” 

 

“Then how…?” 

 

“The school did. When they learned I wouldn’t be able to pick you up myself, they defaulted to the next person on the emergency contact list.” 

 

“Wait. Why is he…” 

 

“He put himself on your contact form, a few months ago. Trust me, it is a gross oversight. One that I will rectify first thing Monday morning. He will not be allowed to ever pick you up from school again.” 

 

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He played with the hem of his sleeve. The pizza smelled inviting, but he couldn’t make himself move to get a slice just yet. 

 

“Peter, I…,” Tony sighed. He moved his hands as if to touch Peter’s arm, but jerked back at the last second. “I need to know...what happened? What did he say? Because whatever it is, it’s a damned lie.” 

 

Peter didn’t answer. He turned away from his Dad to look out the window instead. 

 

Tony gave the kid a few more moments to himself, to try to get the kid to open up. Howard had an affinity for screwing up the good things in life. Tony didn’t want Peter to be one of them. 

 

“FRIDAY, access the audio recordings from the SpiderWatch,” Tony commanded. 

 

Peter whipped his head around to glare open-mouthed at his Dad. 

 

“Audio accessed, boss.” 

 

Peter pleaded with Tony, hoping against all hope the man wouldn’t play those recordings. “Dad...no…” 

 

 _No. No, no, no, no! He’ll hear! He’ll know the truth! He can’t know...how_ ** _useless_** _I am!_

 

“Play recordings from today, voice match Howard Stark.” 

 

Peter crumpled in on himself, new tears wetting the dried tracks of their older siblings. Howard’s voice echoed throughout Peter’s room. 

 

_...Get your things. Let’s go… _

 

_...Care to explain yourself? I  _ **_told_ ** _ you to  _ **_answer_ ** _ me when I talk to you, boy. It damn well better be worth it for me to drive all the way to Queens to get your ass... _

 

Peter’s voice could be heard as well, completing the conversation,  _ “I-it was nothing, sir. A stupid argument.”  _

 

_...A stupid argument is right. Just like your father. It’s only a matter of time before you’re kicked out of that school, and then what? Hmm?... _

 

_ “Leave Dad out of this,” _ Peter heard himself shout. He’d tried to sound strong, protective of his Dad, but now he realized he sounded small. His voice had cracked in the higher registers. 

 

An audible clap came next, and Peter flinched as he remembered Howard’s hand across his bruised face.

 

_...I don’t care how Tony lets you speak to him, but you won’t talk to me like that! Not under my own roof! Apologize… _

 

“Pause,” Tony commanded quietly. 

 

Peter’s breath hitched between his quiet sobs. 

 

“Did he hit you,” came the soft question. 

 

Peter still didn’t answer, but the look on his face was answer enough for Tony. 

 

“He hit you?” 

 

“S-slapped me,” Peter sniffled. “I-I’m fine. Didn’t hurt. Honest.” 

 

Tony’s hands clenched into fists and he vibrated with rage. To Peter’s great surprise, his Dad turned on his heel and practically fled from the room. 

 

It was a long time before Tony came back. Peter had thrown himself on his bed, bruised ribs be damned, and sobbed himself nearly sick. He only forced himself to calm down when FRIDAY said something about alerting his Dad. 

 

“Peter, your heart rate is elevated and your breathing shallow. It appears you are suffering from an anxiety attack. Should I alert boss?” 

 

“No,” he cried at the ceiling. “Shut up, you traitor.” He forced himself to sit propped up against the headboard and take in slow, deep breaths. His tears finally subsided and he gently wiped his face on his sleeves. “Happy now,” he croaked at the AI. 

 

“I do not have the ability to feel happiness, Peter. But your heart rate is closer to normal and that is a good thing,” she replied. 

 

He dragged himself off the bed and into the shower. When he emerged, he saw Tony leaned against his door frame. He looked more comfortable in his dirty jeans and a black t-shirt. He was wiping the grease off his hands with a red rag. He was more relaxed and resembled the normal Tony: Tony the mechanic, not Tony the homicidal maniac. 

 

“FRIDAY told me you had a panic attack,” Tony said as he finished cleaning off his hands. 

 

“Yeah, well FRIDAY is a tattletale. I’m fine,” Peter replied. He gave into his rumbling stomach and grabbed a slice of pizza. 

 

“I listened to the rest of the recording,” Tony said. 

 

Peter froze.  _ Of course, you did _ . 

 

“It’s fine,” he lied. His voice cracked on the long -I of ‘fine’ which gave him away immediately. 

 

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit, kiddo.” Tony entered the room and stood in front of Peter. “Listen, I’m not...I’m not great with these emotional talks. And that’s on me, not you. I’m a piping hot mess and I left so you wouldn’t have to see that.” 

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine, really.” 

 

“See, but you’re not, Pete. Howard, he...he’s the world’s biggest asshole. He gets in your head somehow, has a real gift for knowing just what to say to make you explode. And I hate that he did that to you, kiddo. This is the part where you look at me. Come on, cut your old man some slack.” 

 

Peter slowly looked up at him with his big brown puppy eyes. Tony cupped his cheek on the side of his face that wasn’t bruised. 

 

“Focus up, junior. You had it right when you told him off. I  _ do _ care and I’m not sending you  _ anywhere _ . You’re gonna stay right here with me until I’m too old to pee by myself. And we’ll be just fine.  _ Without _ Howard.” 

 

Peter dropped his pizza back into the box and threw his arms around Tony’s neck. “I’m sorry, Dad! I’m so sorry! None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t lost it on Flash! ‘S all my fault,” he sobbed on his Dad’s chest. 

 

Tony carded his fingers through Peter’s damp hair and shushed him. “No. None of this is your fault. Nothing Flash or Howard did is your fault. I promised you ice cream, remember? I’m proud of you! Your first suspension!” 

 

Peter gave him a watery laugh. “‘M still sorry.” 

 

“Nothing for you to be sorry about, so stop apologizing.” They stood there for a few more minutes, Tony running his hands through Peter’s hair and Peter finally crying himself out. “Hey, come on. Whaddya say we warm up this pizza and throw on a movie? There’s ice cream in the freezer for dessert.” 

 

Peter laughed as he pulled away from Tony to wipe his eyes. “You really want that ice cream, don’t you?” 

 

“We’re celebrating. Gotta break out all the stops!” Tony grabbed the pizza box and led Peter out to the living room. “Pick out a movie or something while this heats up.” 

 

But now that Peter had finally given into his craving for comfort, he didn’t want to let Tony go. Tony didn’t seem to mind, either. He simply threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders and the two stood side-by-side as their dinner warmed up in the oven. 

 

“Know what you wanna watch, kiddo,” Tony asked as he looked down at Peter. 

 

“No. It’s your turn to pick; I always pick.” 

 

Tony pressed a light kiss to Peter’s curls and the kid’s unblemished cheek flushed a bright pink. “Hmm...how does a Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon sound,” he asked. 

 

“Sounds great. And the pizza’s almost done.” Peter quickly dipped out from under Tony’s arm to get their food and take it to the living room. 

 

Father and son settled in, Peter nestled close to Tony’s side, as they piled their plates high and the first episode began. Three episodes and a whole pizza later, Peter found it difficult to keep his eyelids open. He slouched down, burying himself further into the couch cushions, and squished his nose into Tony’s collarbone. 

 

“Aw, shi-” he mumbled as his sore eye bumped Tony’s shoulder. 

 

The man paused the tv and pushed Peter back into a sitting position. Peter sighed as his chin was grabbed for the third time that day and maneuvered so the light fell on his black eye. 

 

“You’re helicoptering again,” Peter sassed. 

 

“I’m your father; I reserve the right to helicopter if I want. And I don’t like the way this looks. It’s still too swollen. Let me see your ribs.” 

 

Peter let out an indignant squawk as his hoodie was wrenched up to expose his bare skin. He pouted, determined not to wince no matter how badly it hurt when Tony poked at his side. But he couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed his face as cold fingers met a particularly sore spot. 

 

“Yeah, I thought so. I want you in bed. I’ll get the pain meds Brucie made for you.” 

 

“What? Aww, come on! I’m  _ fine _ !” 

 

“And I don’t believe you. You can hardly sit up straight without flinching. Go. Stretch out in bed.” 

 

“But...but, what about the ice cream? You promised!” Peter gave Tony his best puppy dog eyes. Not that he really wanted the ice cream; he just didn’t want to be forced into bed like a child.  

 

Tony laughed as he headed toward the medicine cabinet. “You can have ice cream for breakfast. Now come on, or I’ll get a suit and carry you like a baby.” 

 

“Aww, Dad,” the sixteen-year-old pouted, but he dutifully followed Tony back to his room. 

 

Tony pulled down the covers and waited for Peter climb in, then tucked the blankets around him. He handed Peter two pills and a glass of water. “Here. This should help you feel better. But if those bruises aren’t less bruised by morning, I’m calling Banner.” 

 

Peter huffed and set down the empty glass. Tony ruffled his hair gently, and this time, Peter didn’t shy away from the physical contact. He leaned into it and hummed lightly. 

 

“Alright, kiddo. Get some rest.” 

 

“Wait. You’re...you’re leaving,” Peter asked in a small voice. 

 

“I thought you might want some sleep.” 

 

“‘M not tired,” Peter fought through a yawn. 

 

Tony smiled. “Sure you aren’t, kiddo. You want me to stay?” 

 

“I mean...it’s...it’s fine. I’m fine. You probably have better things to do, work to catch up on or...something like that,” he mumbled. 

 

Tony rounded the bed and sat on top of the covers next to Peter. “Nope. My weekend is free and clear. I don’t have anywhere better to be. Wanna cue up the next episode?” 

 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed as he snuggled into Tony’s chest. He was asleep before the opening song finished playing. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Monday morning dawned bright and clear, a beautiful spring day in Queens. Peter, who’s black eye and bruised ribs had completely healed over the weekend, led Tony out of Mr. Morita’s office. 

 

“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Stark. Let us know if there’s anything else we can do to assist you or Peter,” the principal said with an outstretched hand. 

 

“No, thank  _ you _ , Mr. Morita,” Tony responded as he shook the offered hand. 

 

Tony and Peter had stopped by the school before classes started to set the record straight about Howard, and get him removed from Peter’s emergency contact list. The meeting was successful, and Peter was assured he wouldn’t be faced with his grandfather on school grounds as long as Tony deemed him a threat to Peter’s safety. 

 

Peter stopped in the hallway near his locker and turned back to his Dad. Tony smiled and tucked an errant curl behind Peter’s ear. 

 

“Hey, Dad?” 

 

“Yeah, kiddo.” 

 

“Do you think...uh...I mean...c-could I still...uh...still see N-Nonna?” 

 

“Nonna is absolutely welcome to visit the tower or the compound whenever she likes, so long as she comes alone.” 

 

Peter smiled. “Good. Maybe we can have her over for dinner sometime.” 

 

“Yeah. She’d like that.” 

 

“And Pepper, too?” 

 

“And Pepper, too.” 

 

The corner of Peter’s lips turned upward slightly for a moment before he looked down at his watch. 

 

“Oh, Dad, you’ve gotta go. The bell’s gonna r-” He was cut off by the piercing sound of the morning bell that let students into the building. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry!” 

 

“It’s fine, kiddo. I’ll pick you up later, ok?” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair as the kid swiped at his hands. 

 

“Stop it! You’ve messed it all up! It was lying down for once,” Peter protested.  

 

Tony laughed as he headed down the hallway toward a back exit and away from the teeming students. Peter watched until his Dad disappeared around the corner, his heart light and happy. He turned back to his locker and stopped abruptly. Flash stood there, nose still green and swollen. 

 

“Uh...hey, Flash…sorry about, uh...Friday…” 

 

“Speaking of Friday, is Howard Stark really your  _ grandfather _ ? I’ve been wracking my brain all weekend trying to figure that one out.” 

 

Peter glanced around as people started to stare at them. “Not so loud,” Peter hissed. “It works out because…” He sighed knowing that Flash would laugh at him again. “Because when Aunt May died last year, uh...Tony Stark took me in. He, uh, adopted me. So, yeah. Howard really is my grandfather.” 

 

Flash blinked several times as the information sank in. “He looked pissed.” 

 

“He was pissed.” Peter was confused. Where was this going? Why did Flash care? Why was he suddenly being so... _ nice _ ?

 

“Oh.” A look swam across Flash’s features, an almost imperceptible look that said he understood, that maybe, just maybe, Flash and Peter had something in common. But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone and the normal Flash was back. 

 

“Well, stay out of my way,  _ Parker _ , and it won’t happen again.” 

 

Flash brushed past Peter, shoving him gently into the wall of lockers. 

 

_ Sure thing, Flash. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye. _


	3. Fight, then Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pete, it’s time to come home, kiddo. We can discuss this in person. Come home, or I’ll come get you.” 
> 
> “What’s your problem, Tony? May let me stay out as long as I wanted and everything was fine!” 
> 
> “Well, I’m not May, and I said it’s time to come home,” Tony yelled. It was the first time he’d yelled at Peter. He’s fussed before, sure. And there had been that whole fiasco with the Staten Island ferry, but this was nothing like that. Tony had yelled. Peter had flinched. And at the mention of May, regardless of who brought her up first, something inside both of them cracked just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Sorry it's taken forever to update this again. I saw Endgame and had to take a break for a few weeks. Plus, this one didn't want to be written. It was actually rewritten *three times*. Ugh. 
> 
> But thanks to jwriter819 for helping me through the rough patches! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Peter missed curfew it was an accident. Honest. 

 

He was with MJ at a park in Queens. They'd been out of school for about three weeks and had frequented a spot by this one tree with gnarly roots ever since the last bell rang for the school year. They sat leaned up against the tree, arms wrapped around their knees, talking. Just talking. They had been talking for so long about so many things that Peter lost track of time. 

 

His phone rang and he paled at the ringtone: Ozzy Osborne's Iron Man (his Dad's choice; not Peter's. Tony had apparently done something to his phone so he couldn't change the ringtone to something less...obvious). Since the call came from Tony, it answered immediately. Peter had no choice but to bring the phone up to his ear. 

 

“H-hullo?”

 

“Hi, Bambi. Know what time it is?” 

 

Peter looked down at his watch and gasped. He scrambled to his feet and pulled MJ up with him. “Ah, shit! I mean, uh, crap? Definitely crap! Sorry! I'll be home in, uh, 20 minutes or so?” 

 

“Calm down, spider-kid. Just head home, ok?”

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm on the way. S-sorry. Again.” 

 

“I'll see you when you get home. 20 minutes.”

 

“20 minutes.”

 

Peter hung up the phone and rubbed his hand down his face in embarrassment. 

 

“Tony, huh,” MJ asked. 

 

“Uh, y-yeah.” Peter was thankful for the darkness. She couldn’t see him blush and rush to add his face to her collection of drawings. “His choice of ringtones. Not mine. I swear.” 

 

She chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. They headed toward the park entrance, falling into step with each other as they went. They walked on in silence, for the most part, content to simply be in the other’s company for a little while longer. When they reached the entrance, MJ stopped short and turned to face him. 

 

“He doesn’t know, does he? About...whatever this is?” She waved her hand between the two of them as she talked. 

 

“N-no. Not really. Not yet, I mean. Why? Did you tell  _ your  _ parents about us?” 

 

“Yes, actually. Mom gave me a stern talking to and said she hoped that you weren’t taking advantage of my good looks.” 

 

Peter cocked an eyebrow at her. “Wha-what? N-no! I definitely like your brain. I mean, you’re pretty, too, a-and cool, a-and funny, a-a-and smart-” 

 

“Shut up, loser. I get it. I like your brain, too.” 

 

Peter sighed in relief as they started walking again. “I’ll tell him if you want me to. It’s just...he’s...he’s  _ Tony Stark _ and he’ll make a big deal out of it, y’know? Demand to meet you properly, have a family dinner. The whole nine yards. Maybe even invite  _ Nonna _ into it!” 

 

He groaned at the thought. He loved Nonna, he really did, more than just about anyone else he’d met because of his new relation to Tony, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take to MJ. 

 

MJ smirked over at him. “Nah. It’s ok. Don’t stress it, loser.” She stopped at the corner of her street. “See you tomorrow?” 

 

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Peter agreed.   

 

They went their separate ways and Peter skipped into the tower, heart light and giddy even though he knew he was headed for a lecture. But the thought of an angry or disappointed Tony didn’t even enter his mind as he rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. He was too busy thinking of MJ and the way the moonlight shone through her dark hair, illuminated her eyes. The way her smile sent chills down his spine and put butterflies in his stomach when web-slinging through Queens never could. 

 

“Oi! Earth to Bambi,” his Dad nearly shouted. 

 

Peter shook himself and blinked in embarrassment. The elevator had arrived and the doors were open, but he was still in it. His cheeks flushed a bright pink as he quickly stepped off the elevator and into the living room. 

 

“What’s got your head in the clouds, hm?” 

 

“Oh. Uh, nothing. Just thinking.” 

 

“Sure, because ‘just thinking’ always makes me wear a goofy side smile, too. Especially when I’ve missed curfew.” Tony cocked an eyebrow at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

 

Peter gulped, suddenly sober. He fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket and stared at his Dad. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would go. He hadn’t really given Tony a reason to lecture or yell at him in the nearly two years they’d been living together. 

 

“Spill the beans, kid. Where were you?” 

 

“Park in Queens,” Peter answered quickly and quietly. 

 

“Doing what? The suit hasn’t been online for hours. You said you were patrolling when you left.” 

 

“I did. I met up with um, friends when I was done. Must’ve lost track of time,” he mumbled. 

 

Tony leveled the kid with a hard glare, hoping he looked intimidating. He didn’t want to yell at Peter. The kid hadn’t really done anything wrong. Sure, Peter missed curfew by half an hour, but he wasn’t out partying it up like Tony had been when he was Peter’s age. Worse things could’ve happened. Tony relaxed his facial muscles, eyes growing kind again. 

 

“I’ll let it slide this time, kiddo. No harm, no foul. But you have to promise me not to let it happen again. We have rules in place for a reason to-” 

 

“Keep me safe, I know.” 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

“Sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.” And Peter meant it. He really, truly meant it. Right there, at that moment, he hated himself for worrying his Dad even over something silly like being home half an hour late. So he made his promises and had every intention to keep them. 

 

Peter turned his gaze to the floor expecting the lecture to continue. Tony surprised the teen by throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders. 

 

“Ok, chat over. Bedtime. Want me to come tell you a bedtime story?” 

 

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes. “What? No! I’m not four!” 

 

“You’re adorable like a four-year-old,” Tony replied and planted a quick kiss to Peter’s temple. 

 

“Ugh! Dad! I’m almost 18! Come on!” 

 

“What? Nobody’s around to see!” 

 

“FRIDAY’s watching,” Peter shouted playfully as he dashed off toward his room. 

 

“Hey, FRI?” 

 

“Yes, Boss?” 

 

“Save that, will ya? Send it to my personal server.” 

 

“You’re literally the worst,” Peter shouted half-heartedly from his room. 

 

Tony smirked in response. “G’night, spider-baby!”

~~~~~~~~~~

The second and third times Peter missed curfew were an accident, too. As was the fourth, he swears. But by the fourth time in two weeks he’d been out with MJ and his phone rang, he got a little...irritated. He just wanted to hang out with his girlfriend. Was that such a bad thing? He certainly didn’t think so. And Tony hung out with women all the time, right? Well  _ used to _ hang out with women. Now it was just Pepper, which Peter preferred. But that was all beside the point! The  _ point _ was that Peter  _ just wanted some time with MJ!  _

 

But his phone rang, Ozzy cranking out “I am Iron Man” over and over again, enough to make Peter nauseous. He huffed when he brought the phone to his ear.

 

“Peter! So glad you finally decided to take my call,” his Dad snarked.

 

Peter didn't respond. Instead, he dug his toe into the ground wishing he could just hang up but not brave enough to try it.

 

“What are you doing at a park in Queens at half-past 1 in the morning?”

 

“What?! Who said I was at a park in Queens,” Peter demanded. 

 

“The StarkWatch. It's not just a fancy clock, Pete.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re tracking me,” he snapped. 

 

“You're surprised? Come on, Peter. Time to come home. We can discuss this in person.”

 

“No,” Peter said darkly. 

 

“Did you just tell me  _ no _ ?”

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“Just so we're clear, you, a teenager out past curfew, just told me, Tony Stark,  _ no _ . You sure this is a hill you're willing to die on, kiddo?”

Peter looked over at MJ. She was standing now and had thrown her bag over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go, Pete. I should get home soon anyway.” 

 

“Wait! No, MJ, wait,” Peter called. He was completely ignoring Tony on the phone. 

 

“MJ? That scary girl,” his Dad questioned. “Peter, are you out with a girl past curfew?” 

 

“Ugh! Why does it matter to you anyway,” he spat. “You used to go out with women all the time!” Heat rose in his cheeks as Tony’s voice paused for a moment. A sinking feeling grew in his stomach and Peter wondered if maybe he was pushing it too far, maybe he should just go home. But then he looked up to see that MJ was gone. He couldn’t even see her with his enhanced vision. 

 

“Yeah, Pete, I did,” his Dad answered slowly, with calculation. “Doesn’t mean I want that life for you.” 

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone thanks to you.” 

 

“Pete-” 

 

“Why do you have to be so overprotective? It was a nice night! All I wanted was a nice night with MJ! Nobody’s in danger in a  _ park _ in the  _ middle of the night! _ ” 

 

“Pete, it’s time to come home, kiddo. We can discuss this in person. Come home, or I’ll come get you.” 

 

“What’s your problem, Tony? May let me stay out as long as I wanted and everything was fine!” 

 

“Well, I’m not May, and  _ I _ said it’s time to  _ come home _ ,” Tony yelled. It was the first time he’d yelled at Peter. He’s fussed before, sure. And there had been that whole fiasco with the Staten Island ferry, but this was nothing like that. Tony had  _ yelled _ . Peter had  _ flinched _ . And at the mention of May, regardless of who brought her up first, something inside both of them cracked just a little. 

 

Peter ended the call and turned his phone off, heart pounding in his chest. He ripped the StarkWatch from his wrist. For good measure, he threw it on the ground and stomped on it. 

 

_ Having fun tracking me now _ , he thought. But it was a short-lived victory. Because May was gone and he’d been reminded, by his own stupid admission, that she was gone, that things were different now. So very  _ different _ . And maybe that’s what had set him off in the first place. He wasn’t sure. There were only two things that he was sure of in that moment: 

 

  1. He had to leave the park as soon as possible before Tony showed up in a suit
  2. He wanted May. He wanted to hear her voice again, to throw his arms around her neck and hug her so hard he lifted her off her feet. 



 

He couldn’t have May, not anymore. But maybe...maybe there was a second best? Someone who could offer that motherly comfort he craved so much. But it was after one in the morning and Nonna was surely asleep. And if he woke her up, he’d wake up Howard and Howard would be...angry to say the least. 

 

Peter’s feet moved anyway, to at least get him as far away from the park as possible. He followed MJ’s footsteps and took a left at the entrance instead of a turn to the right which would take him to the tower. He couldn’t go to MJ’s. He couldn’t even think about  _ facing _ MJ again after the crap she’d heard him shout at his Dad. And he couldn’t visit Ben and May at the cemetery. 

 

_ Too obvious. He’d look there first _ . _ Ned’s obviously a no-go, too. That leaves… _

 

Peter looked up at the street signs. If he went straight, he’d end up at Stark Mansion in a few more blocks. But he could just as easily turn around and with his enhanced strength, he could make it back to the tower by two am if he sprinted. Peter put one foot in front of the other, crossed the street, and continued straight. 

 

_ That leaves Nonna...and Howard. He’d never think to check there.  _

 

Peter wasn’t aware of the time when he finally walked up to the gates of Stark Mansion; it had been a long day and he was exhausted. He stood outside of the gate, not really sure if he actually wanted on the property or not. He’d come all this way looking for comfort and all he got was the harsh memory of a slap in the face. 

 

_ “My son put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and gave you one of the most influential last names in the world and this is how you repay him?!”  _

 

Peter winced at the memory and his hand reached up to rub the sting out of his cheek as if he’d been slapped recently, not months ago. 

 

_ This was a stupid idea. I should just go home and get it over with. A pissed Tony is better than a happy Howard. _

 

But as he turned to leave, movement caught his eye. He squinted and focused his vision to truly see what could possibly be lurking in the dark on Stark property. Then it hit him. 

 

_ Security, you idiot! Find a place to hide! Find a place to  _ **_hide_ ** _!  _

 

But there wasn’t anywhere to hide. The alarm blared to life triggered by his movements and floodlights flashed in his eyes. The sudden onslaught of lights and sound threw his spidey senses into overdrive and rendered him completely defenseless. Peter fell to his knees, eyes screwed shut and hands clamped over his ears. Tears poured down his cheeks as he thrashed around on the ground in pain. He was still curled up in the fetal position when a pair of strong hands and a gruff voice hauled him to his feet. 

 

“Mr. Stark,” the guard questioned. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?” 

 

Peter shivered despite the warm summer air, dirt and tears caked to his cheeks. His hands were still clamped over his ears. 

 

The guard turned to yell at his partner over his shoulder. “Hey! Shut down the alarm! It’s just the kid!” 

 

The blaring alarm stopped and Peter melted in relief. He would’ve tumbled to his knees if the guard hadn’t had a death grip on his bicep. 

 

“Come on, Mr. Stark. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up. Everyone’s looking for you.” 

 

It took Peter a few moments to register what the guard had said. He was too busy placing one foot in front of the other, too busy not falling over. 

 

“Wait. Who’s looking for me,” Peter mumbled. 

 

“Everyone, sir.” 

 

“E-everyone?” 

 

“Your Dad called about an hour ago, said you were missing. Everyone’s been up and about ever since.” 

 

“Oh,” Peter answered in a small voice as they arrived at the side entrance of the mansion. The guard ushered him into the kitchen where they were overrun by Maria Stark. 

 

“Peter! Tesoro! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you hurt? Are you ill?” She ran her hands over his face, his arms, hunting for injuries with worried eyes. 

 

“I’m fine, Nonna,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I worried you.” 

 

She engulfed him in a hug and he tucked his face into her shoulder. She smelled like Tony; his cheeks flushed with shame. 

 

“You better be sorry,” came a dangerously quiet voice. 

 

Peter froze in Nonna’s embrace. 

 

“And if you aren’t yet, you will be soon.” 

 

“That’s enough, Howard. Peter’s safe. That’s the important thing!” 

 

“He’s safe, yes, but did you forget how he ended up in this situation in the first place?” 

 

Peter gently pulled himself out of Nonna’s arms and glanced over at Howard. The man towered over him even as he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. Howard wore an angry scowl. Peter swallowed and shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

 

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man,” Howard demanded. 

 

“Howard! Enough! The boy’s been through-” 

 

“Whatever he’s been through tonight, he brought it on himself,” Howard ground out. 

 

And Peter couldn’t help but think that Howard was right. He had, hadn’t he? He had been out past curfew, he had yelled at Tony first, he had even mentioned May first. And then he’d taken off, thrown everything back in Tony’s face. Like a brat. 

 

_ “My son put a roof over your head...and this is how you repay him?!” _

 

Peter dropped his eyes unable to look Howard in the face anymore. 

 

“Don’t start your crying,” Howard spat at him. “Go get cleaned up. Tony’s on his way.” 

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Peter whispered. He quickly brushed past Nonna in an attempt to put as much space between himself and Howard as possible. He practically ran down the hall to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He splashed water on his face, ignoring his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t want to know what he looked like, what kind of shape he was in after traipsing around New York City in the dead of night. As he shut the water off, he heard voices trickle down the hall. He strained, focusing his hearing on the kitchen. 

 

“Stop antagonizing him, Howard! Can’t you see the boy’s terrified?” 

 

“It’s his own fault, Maria! Didn’t you hear what Tony said? The kid  _ ran away _ !” 

 

“I’m sure everything can be worked out-” 

 

“No! No, he’s a Stark now! He needs to learn that he can’t go where he wants, do as he pleases! It comes back on all of us! What if something had happened? What if someone had seen him while he was out running through dark alleyways? Hmm? We may yet be on the front page of the news in the morning because of his little temper tantrum!” 

 

Peter swallowed back his tears. He hadn’t thought of that. He knew his Dad had rules in place to keep him safe, and that made sense. But he hadn’t had to deal with the press much since becoming Tony Stark’s son. He had no idea what it was like to have his name and face plastered on every tv in the nation highlighting his misdeeds for the world to see. And if word got out that he ran off…

 

 _Would someone come take me away?_ _Would people think Tony’s a bad father because of this?_

 

Peter’s heart beat in his throat and his breaths came in quick gasps. He didn’t want to leave Tony; he had never wanted to leave Tony. He was just a little mad that he couldn’t hang out with MJ. It was stupid and because he was stupid, people were going to think Tony was a bad father and take him away from his Dad. Peter slumped against the door and sank to the ground as Nonna’s voice echoed down the hall. 

 

“Whatever happens, you stay out of it, do you hear me? Let Tony handle it; Peter’s not your responsibility.” 

 

“Thank god for that,” Howard spat. “I’d have shipped him off to boarding school ages ago where he’d learn some discipline and manners, the little brat!” 

 

Peter choked out a sob. Howard was right, he was always right. 

 

_ I  _ **_am_ ** _ a brat. This is all my fault! Someone’s gonna take me away and it’s all my fault! _

 

“Enough,” Nonna’s voice reverberated in his skull, stopping both Howard’s tirade and Peter’s spiraling thoughts. “Don’t think I don’t know what happened! Why we haven’t been invited to visit or why Peter hasn’t been by in months! Keep your hands to yourself, Howard, or so help me god, I’ll leave you in the dust!” 

 

Peter clamped a hand over his mouth so no one would hear his crying. He focused on taking calm, steady breaths as Howard responded. 

 

“Hmph. I never hurt the boy; I was merely trying to toughen him up.” 

 

“You  _ slapped _ him like you slapped around our own son! I won’t stand for it, not again. I shouldn’t have stood by and watched you treat Tony with disdain, but I certainly won’t let it happen again. Not with Peter.” 

 

Peter heard a grunt in response and heavy footfalls come down the hall. He quickly jumped to his feet and splashed water on his face again. He was wiping it dry when the door slammed open. 

 

“Stop crying and get out here,” Howard demanded gruffly. 

 

Peter jumped to obey and followed the man back to the kitchen. Nonna offered him a chair and a mug of hot tea. He took it gratefully and stared down at the steam rising from the mug. 

 

“I-I...I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” 

 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, kid,” Howard snapped. “So stop feeling sorry for yourself.  _ You _ ran off and  _ you _ have to pay for it.” 

 

The doorbell rang and Nonna ran to answer it. Peter and Howard were left alone for a moment. 

 

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, kid, and I hope you know how to deal with an angry Tony. He’s a bitch when he’s pissed and is known to hold a grudge.” Howard patted Peter on the shoulder and smirked at him as Tony barreled into the kitchen. 

 

“Peter,” he called and Peter looked up warily. 

 

“D-dad?” 

 

Tony was across the room in an instant and had yanked Peter out of his chair. Peter was afraid that Tony was mad, that something terrible was about to happen, that maybe someone wouldn’t have to come take him from Tony because Tony would just drop him off with social services. He was surprised when Tony pulled him in for a hug and buried his face in Peter’s hair. 

 

“God, kid, you scared me,” he whispered. Peter tucked his head into Tony’s neck and willed himself not to cry in front of Howard. After a long moment, Tony’s grip loosened and he held Peter at arm’s length. “Are you hurt? Are you ok?” 

 

Peter saw worry in the lines on his Dad’s face, in the man’s disheveled hair. “No, Dad, I’m fine.” 

 

Tony let out a sigh and ran his hands down his face. “Good. That’s good.” Then his eyebrows knit together, and something grew dark in his eyes. The lines in Tony’s face were more pronounced than they were only a second before as he glared down at Peter. 

 

_ I hope you know how to deal with an angry Tony _ . 

 

“Don’t  _ ever _ run off like that again. Got it?” Peter nodded silently. “Let’s go. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

 

Tony clamped a hand on the back of his neck and guided him out to the car. The ride home was silent. Peter was too terrified to speak, not wanting to make the situation worse and hoping against all hope that a) no one was waiting at the tower to take him away or b) Tony wasn’t about to leave him with some government social worker for all the trouble he’d caused. They were at the halfway marker when Tony broke the silence. 

 

“Got nothing to say, huh? I couldn’t get you to shut up earlier.” 

 

Peter kept his eyes trained on his hands. 

 

“See, this is the part where you explain yourself,” Tony said firmly. 

 

Peter jumped and tried to formulate a coherent thought, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Peter! You could’ve been hurt! You could’ve been killed! Someone could’ve seen you and taken you and without your phone or the watch, you’d have no way to call for help! I’d have no way of knowing if you were lying in an alley somewhere bleeding out or not!” 

 

Peter wasn’t sure if he was glad they’d reached the yelling stage of the conversation, but Tony’s anger was helping him put words into sentences into thoughts. 

 

“What were you  _ thinking _ ?” Tony slammed his hand against the steering wheel. 

 

“I-I...I just wanted to spend time with MJ,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think about all that.” 

 

“I know you didn’t, Pete! I know what it’s like to be 17, to want to be out from under an overbearing parent, but you don’t  _ think _ ! You have to think these things through!” 

 

“You’re not overbearing,” Peter interjected and finally looked up at his Dad. 

 

Tony pulled into the garage, put the car in park, and turned over to Peter. “What?” 

 

“I...I don’t think you’re overbearing. I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped forward. “Howard was right; I’m just a brat. Maybe you should send me away.” 

 

“Whoa. Hold the phone.  _ What _ did Howard say? Because I’m not sending you anywhere, kiddo, except to your room for at least a month for scaring the shit out of me.”  

 

Peter stared at his lap again, face flushed and his stomach in knots. 

 

“Peter,” Tony began cautiously. “Did he…” 

 

“No! No, nothing like that. He just...they...I overheard them...arguing.” Peter sighed. Maybe the trademark Stark Aversion To Emotions was rubbing off on him. He sniffled, eyes still glued to his hands in his lap. 

 

“Bambi?” 

 

Tony hadn’t called him Bambi while mad at him before. 

 

_ Maybe he’s not so mad? I mean, pissed yeah, but...mad enough to stop with the Bambi name calling? _

 

“He, uh, s-said that someone could’ve seen me while I was out. Could be in the morning news. And I never thought about it like that before! Honest! I just was mad at you and wanted to spend time with MJ some more and I know it was dumb and I’m sorry! Please don’t let them take me away! If they see it in the news, they’ll think you’re not a good Dad and take me away! Dad, please!” 

 

Tony was shocked into silence as he suddenly found himself with a lap full of sobbing teenager. He ran his hands through Peter’s messy curls and pushed him back into his seat. 

 

“Peter, kid, calm down. Nobody’s taking you away.” 

 

“B-but the adop-tion people! If they see it in the papers that I ran away-” 

 

“No one’s going to see it in the papers. I promise.” 

 

“H-how do you kn-know?” Peter hiccupped through his tears. 

 

“Because I can wipe the traffic camera footage of you wandering around town, not that I found much to begin with. You’re hard to find when you don’t want to be found.” 

 

Peter scrubbed at his eyes. “S-sorry.” 

 

“And Pep’s really good at scaring people, particularly the media. And she’d definitely scare the paparazzi if she knew they were threatening a certain spiderbaby she’s found of.” 

 

Peter looked up finally, eyes red-rimmed. “Promise? It’s not a big deal?” 

 

“Promise. It’s not a deal at all. No one’s coming to take you away.” 

 

Peter slumped back in his seat in relief. He wiped his eyes with the end of his shirt. 

 

“Question time: What was that bit about me sending you away?” 

 

Peter froze, his shirt still covering his face. A calloused hand gripped his wrist and pulled it away from his face. 

 

“Why would you think I’d send you away?” 

 

“I-I-I...because I’m a brat...an-and maybe was too much...trouble.” 

 

Tony scoffed. “Did  _ Howard _ tell you that?” 

 

“He called me a brat,” Peter mumbled. “But it’s true! I was, I’ve been such a-a, well a  _ brat _ tonight! And now you’re all mad at me and I thought maybe it was too much and if someone didn’t come to get me, maybe you’d send me packing.” 

 

Tony grabbed Peter’s chin and forced the kid to look him in the eye. “You aren’t going anywhere, kiddo, except to your room. For a whole month. You’ll be lucky if I let you leave the penthouse. No, you know what? You  _ can’t _ leave the penthouse. You’ve done enough adventuring tonight to last us both for a long time. Got it?” 

 

Peter nodded. 

 

“So no more talking of me sending you somewhere else or people coming to take you away or you actually leaving. Off the table. Forever. Not up for discussion.” 

 

Peter nodded again. 

 

“So we’re gonna finally get out of this car and you’re gonna march your happy ass up to your room.” Tony turned and got out of the car; Peter followed suit. They fell into step as they headed toward the elevator. “Just so we’re clear, I’m serious about the whole not leaving the penthouse for a month thing. If you leave, FRIDAY’ll know.” 

 

Peter hung his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. His right fist clenched around the broken StarkWatch and he flinched. 

 

“What? Scared of FRIDAY that much,” Tony asked with a smirk. 

 

“No, it’s...I…” He pulled out the broken watch and showed it to his Dad. “I broke it when...you know, earlier.” 

 

The elevator dinged and they stepped out onto their shared floor. 

 

“Leave it and your phone, if you didn’t break that too, on the breakfast bar,” Tony sniffed. “Along with your laptop and StarkPad. Can’t have you having fun while you’re under house arrest.” 

 

Peter placed his scratch-free phone and the broken watch on the bar and scurried off to his room. When he returned with his tech, Tony was examining the broken watch. Peter placed his laptop on the bar and shuffled his feet. 

 

“I’m sorry. About...everything,” he mumbled in resignation. 

 

“Yeah, kid. Me, too.” Tony glanced up and saw the dark circles under Peter’s eyes. “Go to bed, Bambi. I’ll see you in the...well, later today.” He gently brushed his lips against Peter’s forehead. “Love you, kiddo.” 

 

Tony pulled him in for one last hug for the night. Peter snuggled into the warm embrace, finally getting the comfort he’d wanted since he’d run off in search of...not a replacement for May; no one could ever replace her. But...well, a parent. He breathed in Tony’s characteristic scent of aftershave, motor oil, and spice, and sighed contentedly. 

 

“Love you, too. Night, Dad,” he mumbled into Tony’s shoulder before pulling out of the hug. Peter rubbed his eyes and headed back to his room, grateful that his ‘adventure’, as his Dad had called it, was over. He flopped on the bed face first and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

 

Several hours later, Peter was startled awake by FRIDAY’s morning alarm. “Good morning, Peter. Boss says it’s time to get up.” 

 

“Ugh,” he groaned as he covered his face with a pillow. “What time is it?” 

 

“9 AM,” she chirped. 

 

Peter groaned again and rolled onto his side. Through his slitted eyes, he saw a box on his bedside table. He grabbed it and pulled the top off. Inside was a new StarkWatch, a dark blue band with a red casing. The Spider-Man emblem was set as the background. He pulled it out of the box and saw the note attached to it. 

 

_ “Break this one and I’ll sell your Audi. Love, Dad”  _

 

Peter’s lips curled up into a smile as he slid the watch on his wrist. It fit perfectly and the screen jumped to life as the sensors touched his skin. 

 

“Hello, Peter,” came Karen’s sing-song voice. “How are you today?” 

 

_ Perfect now that Dad’s not still mad at me. _

 

It would be a long, and boring, month under house arrest, but at least he still had his Dad.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Maria Stark stans,   
> you're welcome. 
> 
> As always, constructive criticism and comments are a treat and make my day! Hit me up on tumblr if you want under the same username.


	4. Graduation Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter graduates from MIT and realizes some things about his relationship with Howard in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a sequel so here it is! This didn't turn out exactly like I thought it would, but I still like it. Hope you do, too! 
> 
> As always, constructive criticism and comments are welcome!

Tony pulled up the driveway and came to a stop in front of the magnificent mansion. He took the key out of the ignition but sat in the car for a minute longer. Peter would kill him if the kid knew where he was.

 

_But what the spider-kid doesn’t know, won’t hurt him._

 

At least, that was Tony’s mantra for the day. He braced himself for a tense afternoon and got out of the car. A butler answered the door and ushered him into the sitting room where his mother reclined on a plush leather couch.

 

“Anthony! Bambino, it’s so good to see you,” she called as she rose to meet him. Tony pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “Did you bring my grandson with you?”

 

Tony chuckled. “Not today, Mom. He’s still at school finishing his exams.”

 

A small frown worked its way into her features. “Well. You’ll just have to bring him over for dinner as soon as he’s done. We’ll have a little pre-celebration celebration!”

 

Tony smirked at her enthusiasm. He could see the wheels of her mind spinning, planning an elegant dinner party. She was already wondering who to invite, which members of the board had delightful young daughters and where to seat everyone. Tony quickly jumped to interrupt her thoughts.

 

“I don’t think Peter would like your little pre-celebration celebration. But a private dinner at the compound sounds nice.”

 

Maria huffed. “Fine. I suppose we can drive out to the wilderness for one night. For Peter’s sake.”

 

Tony gave her one of his winning smiles. “Peter will love you for it. Hey, where’s the old man?”

 

“Your father? Up in his study, as usual,” she answered dismissively.

 

Tony headed up the stairs to Howard’s private study. Out of all of the rooms in the 85-room mansion, Howard’s private study was the one Tony hated the most. It was where his father would go to avoid a young Tony, the place where he was summoned whenever he managed to misbehave, where he’d been on the receiving end of many lectures-to-end-all-lectures. He’d been slapped around a time or two, as well, when he’d done something spectacularly stupid and Howard just couldn’t rein it in any longer. Standing in front of the solid mahogany door always made Tony feel like a child in waiting for a reprimand. He swallowed that feeling now- _You’re an_ **_Avenger_ ** _for crying out loud! Pull yourself together!_ -and knocked.

 

“Enter!”

 

Tony pushed the door opened and reminded himself why he was there in the first place: for Peter’s sake.

 

“Tony. I didn’t know you were stopping by,” Howard said without bothering to get up from his seat behind his desk. Even in retirement and old age, the man still worked.

 

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by for a little chat,” he bantered and shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

Howard raised an eyebrow. “You’re never in the neighborhood. You avoid the neighborhood. Why are you really here?”

 

“Peter’s graduation is next week.”

 

“Yes, we received the invitation. What of it?”

 

“Your presence is requested. Required, actually. Only God knows why, but the kid wants you both there.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“So because he’s your grandson, your _only_ grandson, you’ll be there. With bells on. And you’ll be cordial, if not nice.”

 

Howard finally looked up from the file on his desk. “Is that a threat?”

 

“It’s a promise because I can promise you this: if you break my kid’s heart, _again_ , on one of the biggest days of his life, I’ll buy you out of the company.”  

 

Howard narrowed his eyes at his son. “We have every intention of attending Peter’s graduation. There’s no need to make such veiled threats.”

 

“I have no doubt you’ll attend graduation. The heir to Stark Industries is graduating from MIT summa cum laude; it’s one of the hottest events of the year. You wouldn’t miss the publicity for anything.”

 

Howard rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m talking about the family dinner after the ceremony. You don’t have to tell him you’re proud; Peter learned not to expect that kind of praise from you years ago. But you don’t have to criticize him every chance you get.”

 

“I’m very proud of him, as a matter of fact,” Howard retorted, his feathers ruffled.  

 

“Well, you have a pretty shitty way of showing it. Just...be nice for once. That’s all I want.” _It’s all I’ve ever wanted_ , he thought but kept that bit to himself.

 

Howard mumbled something under his breath, but Tony didn’t wait around for a clarified reply.

 

“Right. Well, I’m done here. See you next week.” Tony turned on his heel and abruptly left the hated study. Once he was alone in the hallway, he took a few steadying breaths. That hadn’t been so bad. He’d talked to Howard and they had almost agreed on something. _Well, it could count as agreeing if you squint. It still counts_ , he told himself as he kissed his mother goodbye and headed out to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Peter arrived at the compound a few days before graduation and was met by two proud parents and a doting Nonna. Howard was conveniently absent.

 

“He wishes he could’ve come, tesoro. He was looking forward to it all week, but-”

 

“But something came up,” Peter finished for her. The pair was standing out on the back lawn watching as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

 

Nonna sighed. “He is proud of you, no matter what your father tells you.”

 

“It’s fine, Nonna,” he replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Really. It is.”

 

She tucked an errant curl behind his ear and he gave her an earnest smile once again. “Are you ready,” she asked.

 

“Ready? For what?”

 

“To take on a more active role in the company, of course. Your father took a more hands-on approach when he was your age.”

 

Peter scoffed. “Yeah, he also graduated MIT with a Ph.D. when he was my age. I might need a little more time.”

 

“You’ve studied under Tony for years now. You’ll do fine, bambino.” She gave him an encouraging smile, but he kept his gaze on the ground.

 

“That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s the...the whole... _business_ side of business. I don’t know anything about that! That’s been Mom’s department.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in distress. “I should’ve gone to more meetings with her, met more people, been more visible-”

 

“Pete!”

 

Peter and Maria turned as Tony and Pepper joined them outside. Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder and smiled.

 

Peter paled. “Oh no. I know that face.”

 

“What? What face? This is my face,” Tony feigned innocence.

 

“No. It’s your I’m-about-to-give-Peter-something-expensive face. Whatever it is, I’m fine. I promise.”

 

Tony chuckled. “It’s not that expensive. And I think you’ll actually like this one.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes as a small black box was shoved into his hands. He looked down and groaned. “This better not be another car.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Or the keys to another apartment.”

 

“Nope. Not that either.”

 

“All that’s left is a quinjet.”

 

“Well, I tried, but your mother wouldn’t hear of it.”

 

Peter sent Pepper a silent look of thanks.

 

“Just open it and put your Dad out of his misery,” Pepper said with a laugh.

 

Peter huffed and opened the box. “Oh,” he said in surprise. It was a new StarkWatch, which was not at all what he was expecting.

 

“See? Not that bad. Or that expensive.”

 

Peter took off his old one and replaced it with the new watch.

 

“Newly updated with all the bells and whistles. And maybe some surprises that I’ll leave for you to find on your own.” Tony winked at him and Peter understood that to mean some of the updates were Spider-Man related.

 

“It’s quite a lovely shade of blue for the band; it goes well with the red watch face. I thought you were more of a red and gold man, Tony,” Nonna asked.

 

“I am, but Pete here hasn’t come to his senses and insists on _blue_ and red instead of _gold_.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes and huffed good-naturedly. He threw his arms around Tony’s neck with a smile. “Thanks, Dad. It’s great.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Peter tugged his shirt sleeve over his new watch and looked at himself in the mirror. _Almost time_ , he thought. He sighed as he reached up to tie his bowtie for the third time. He and Ned had stayed at the apartment the night before. Everyone else would meet them at the ceremony, and afterward, it was to the compound for what Tony had dubbed the ‘party of the century’. Peter’s lips formed a thin line at the thought of having to entertain Tony’s guests and he finished with his tie.

 

Peter and Ned hurried down to the private garage and jumped into Peter’s silver Audi. While he had balked at the present when he turned 16, he quite enjoyed zipping through traffic on the way to the college. It allowed him a chance to left off some nervous energy as Ned rolled down the window and whooped.

 

“Ned, please don’t stick your head out of the window.”

 

“I can’t help it! We’re _graduating_!”

 

The two friends laughed as Peter parked in front of the auditorium. Turns out that the ceremony isn’t all it was cracked up to be, and Peter spent a lot of time sitting around being bored out of his mind. But finally, his row was next and he started to search the crowd. He easily found his parents, and with them were Nonna and Howard. A few of the Avengers even made an appearance, although they were hidden in the back. Peter stood with his row and walked toward the stage. Then he heard, “Peter Benjamin Stark,” and a distinct, “That’s my kid,” and he was shaking the dean’s hand and accepting a heavy (empty) folder. And then it was over.

 

Once the last student had been called, friends and family stormed the floor searching for their graduates. Peter cautiously looked around, always on the look-out for danger, when a hand clapped him on the back.

 

“Dad!”

 

“So proud of you, kiddo,” Tony shouted over the crowd and quickly wrapped Peter in a hug. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting over here.”

 

The pair pushed through the throngs of people to the side where the rest of the family awaited. Peter did his rounds giving everyone hugs, starting with Pepper and working his way toward Howard. Howard held out a hand for the customary Stark Handshake, but Peter quickly threw his arms around the man instead.

 

“Thanks for coming, sir,” he said in Howard’s ear. Howard scowled in response and shook his suit sleeves as if he could rid himself of the public display of affection.

 

Peter moved on without a second’s hesitation to hug someone else as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned to Tony, a look of pure horror on his face.

 

“Pete? What is it?”

 

“Something’s...wrong…” Peter turned around in a circle trying to find the source of the danger. He strained his ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary. As his eyes roamed over the crowds, he heard it. A faint beeping noise. Nobody without super hearing would be able to catch it and recognize it for what it was. Peter paled.

 

“Pete…”

 

“Suit. Get the suit,” he shouted at Tony.

 

“Why?”

 

“Bomb,” Peter screamed mere seconds before the explosion shook the auditorium. Time seemed to stand still. He saw out of the corner of his eye his Dad press the button on his chest that called the nano-suit. But that left Mom, Nonna, and Howard vulnerable. Tony immediately grabbed Pepper and wrapped his arms around her to shield her. Peter shoved Howard and Nonna down and landed on top of them.

 

Time suddenly sped up, or Peter caught up to reality, as the ringing in his ears dissipated. He sat and looked around dazedly for his Mom and Dad. He saw a glimmer of the Iron Man red and jumped to his feet, his graduation robe falling to the ground in his haste.

 

“Dad!”

 

“Peter! Are you hurt? Are you ok? Scan him, FRIDAY!”

 

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted.

 

“Peter’s right, boss. A few cuts and bruises that will heal in a few hours.”

 

Tony sighed. “Ok. Suit up, kiddo. Time to get to work.”

 

Nearby, Howard shook his head to clear it as he focused on Tony and Peter’s conversation.

 

“Dad! I don’t have the suit! I couldn’t wear it under my robe!”

 

“Tap the watch,” Tony instructed and his helmet closed with a snap.

 

Peter looked down at his new StarkWatch; the watch face blinked the Spider-Man emblem. Peter smirked as he tapped it once. Suddenly, a nano-suit of his own spread out from the watch and coated him in a new spidey suit.

 

“Hello, Peter. Welcome to the Iron Spider, Mark II,” said a familiar voice.

 

“Hey, Karen! Let’s get to work!” Peter looked around him for civilians in need and his eyes immediately found Howard’s. _Shit_ , he gulped. _Oh well_. He’d have to deal with that little issue later. “Karen, find me safe exit points and call mobile medical units.”

 

“Several first responders are already on their way. The safest exits are located here.” She indicated three doors on his heads-up display. “The worst of the damage seems to be near the stage.”

 

Peter dashed off in the direction of the stage, webbing over a small crowd to get there. “Are there any injured people by the stage?”

 

“Pete, you know the drill,” came Tony’s voice over the comms. “Swing low and get people to safety.”

 

“What? No way! I’m already over by the initial bomb site.”

 

“Peter Benjamin Stark! Stay _away_ from that bomb! There could be another one rigged to blow,” Tony shouted in his ear.

 

Peter winced as he landed in front of the stage. “What’s the damage, Karen?”

 

“I’ve found two heat signatures under the wreckage.”

 

“And the bomb?”

 

“Gone in the explosion.”

 

“See? I knew Dad worried for nothing,” he told his AI as he crawled under the broken beams of the stage. “Hello? Anybody down here? Just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man looking to rescue some people!”

 

“H-help! Down here,” a woman cried.

 

“Hey, I’m coming! Don’t worry,” he told her as he slowly made his way through the broken and burning remains of the stage.

 

“Peter! Where’d you go,” Tony called frantically on the comms.

 

“Cool your repulsors, old man. I’m getting someone out from under the stage.”

 

“Oh? You mean the stage I specifically told you _not_ to go near? The one on _fire_ ? The one where the _bomb_ was?”

 

“No. The other one,” Peter sassed as he reached out a hand toward the crying woman. “Don’t mind him. He gets grumpy when he forgets his snickers bar.”

 

Tony swore in his ear and Peter laughed. “Kid, I swear, if you get yourself hurt, you’re grounded.”

 

She reached out toward him too, but her movement shifted the pile of rubble on top of them.

 

“No, no, no! Don’t do that,” Peter shouted at her. “Y-you just stay there, ok? I’ll come to you.”

 

The woman locked onto him with her terrified eyes and he knew she wouldn’t listen. She began to crawl toward him despite his pleas for her to stop.

 

“Peter, my calculations estimate a 98% chance of the stage falling on top of you both.”

 

“Yeah, not now, Karen! Lady! Just stay put!” The woman wiggled and a smoldering beam came crashing down on top of Peter’s head. Peter’s world went black.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Peter’s head ached. _A lot._ He kept his eyes closed against the pain, but listened to figure out where he was. He heard...arguing? That couldn’t be right.

 

“...you let my grandson, my _only grandson_ , run around the damn city in _spandex_?!”

 

“I don’t _let_ him do anything! Peter was already Spider-Man long before we met.”

 

“And you could’ve put a stop to it! That’s what fathers _do_ , Tony! _Protect their children!”_

 

“What do you think I’ve been doing for seven years?! I gave him a suit that would help keep him safe! When we met, he was running around Queens in a damn onesie!”

 

“Mmm. Not a onesie,” Peter groaned.

 

Tony rushed to his bedside and Howard followed. “Peter? How’re you feeling, kiddo,” Tony asked in a much gentler tone than he has used a few moments ago.

 

“Ugh. Hurts.”

 

“A burning pile of beams fell on you. I’m surprised you’re still _alive_ ,” Howard spat out and glared at Tony.

 

“Got super healing,” Peter mumbled.

 

“What,” Howard asked, brows knit together.

 

Peter blinked his eyes open and looked up at the two elder Starks. “I’ve got super healing abilities,” he said slowly. “A-along with...uh…” _Ugh, it hurts to think._

 

“If it hurts to think, how about you don’t worry with it for right now, ok,” Tony asked as he gently placed a hand on Peter’s forehead.

 

“Mmm. ‘S nice.” He gave his Dad a loopy smile.

 

“How much have they given him,” Howard asked.

 

“A lot. He has his own special brand of everything based off of your friend Captain America.”

 

“He’s a super soldier? But, how?”

 

“Not a s-s-s...ugh...not cap,” Peter slurred. “‘M Spider-Man!”

 

“You sure are kiddo. Now go back to sleep. Spider-babies need their rest.”

 

“Not spider-baby,” Peter pouted, his eyes closed again.

 

Tony pulled his hand away and turned to face his father again, but a super sticky spider hand grabbed him.

 

“Dad? Stay,” Peter whined, looking all the world like he was 15 again and not nearly 22.

 

“Yeah, of course, kiddo. Dad’s not going anywhere.” Tony softly carded his fingers through Peter’s hair and the injured hero fell asleep.

 

When Peter woke the second time, his mind was clearer. He scrubbed his eyes open and looked around the room. The sterile white walls and dimly lit lights and the softly beeping heart monitor gave it away.

 

“Medbay,” he croaked, his throat dry.

 

“Yeah, kiddo; we’re in medbay. What do you remember?” Tony sat in a chair on his right and looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Pepper was asleep on the couch against the wall. Howard stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Uh...shit,” Peter mumbled as he locked eyes with his grandfather. “Sir, I...I can explain…”

 

“No, you had it right the first time, son. Shit is right. What kind of foolhardy act do you call that, running into danger in nothing but a leotard?! And against your father’s wishes, I might add!”

 

Peter looked to Tony for help, but the man suddenly seemed mute.

 

“You answer me when I ask you a question, young man,” Howard said sternly.

 

“I-I...Th-there was a woman! Buried under the wreckage! I-I was just trying to help her!”

 

“And tried to get yourself killed in the process?! You’re the future of Stark Industries, Peter! The future of science as we know it! You’re a very important person! You can’t just rush into these types of situations without thinking it through!” He slammed his hand on the foot of the bed and Peter jumped. “Damn it, Peter! You’re grounded! Don’t even _think_ of leaving this compound anytime soon!” With that, Howard turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

 

Peter blinked after him, then turned his shocked doe eyes on Tony. “Wh-what was that? Can he...can he _do_ that? What happened to having my back with him?”

 

“Normally I would, but I happen to agree with him for once.”

 

“What?! Dad, I’m _21!_  You can’t _ground_ me!”

 

“Oh, I didn’t ground you. Howard did.”

 

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“By the way, that little outburst is his way of saying that he’s proud. You scared us, Pete. Scared him a lot, by the looks of it. He just wants to make sure you’re safe.”

 

“You sure you aren’t projecting your helicopter parenting onto him?”

 

Tony smirked. “I’m sure. Now get some rest, kiddo. You earned it.”

 

Peter leaned his head back on his pillow, eyes closed, as lips pulled up in a small smile.

 

“What are you smirking at,” Tony asked.

 

“He likes me. It only took me a few years, but he finally likes me.”

 

“Yeah, kiddo. He does," Tony smiled. "I knew you’d win him over in the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know Italian, but hopefully, Google translate didn't butcher anything. 
> 
> bambino mio = my baby/child
> 
> bambino = baby/child
> 
> tesoro = dear, treasure
> 
> Nonna = grandmother


End file.
